


"I might just kiss you."

by Guardian Of The Lotus (DistantStorm)



Series: Fictober 2019 [5]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Kissing, anxious adults who have their shit together (mostly)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 01:00:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20899028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/Guardian%20Of%20The%20Lotus
Summary: What it says on the tin.Written for day 5 of the Fictober 2019 Challenge on Tumblr: "I might just kiss you."





	"I might just kiss you."

“You’ve been staring at me funny,” Hawthorne informs him quietly.

“Have I?” Zavala asks 

Suraya hums in the affirmative. She does not break away from her view of the City, does not look at the man beside her. In the strangest way, she can feel him. She knows when he’s near, like she knows when Louis is coming back from hunting. 

Instinct. Trust. Comfort. They have that, she thinks. Theirs is the most open and honest companionship she’s entertained in years.

“The entire time I was presenting my plan for the budget allocations to the Consensus earlier, you had this look in your eye. I know it’s a great plan, but-”

Zavala hums, interrupting what will certainly dissolve into nervous babble. “You were authoritative, and earned everyone in that room’s complete attention. Myself included.”

“Yes, but they didn’t look at me like you did.”

“How is that?”

“Like,” Suraya shrugs, finally turning her head to look at him, “I don’t know. It’s kind of like you want to say something, maybe ask me something,” She evaluates him, “But you don’t know how. It’s intense. Even for you.”

“Hmm.” His brow furrows as he thinks on it. “What if I…”

Hawthorne uncrosses her arms. “What if you what?”

He puts both hands on her shoulders. She flinches at the suddenness but yields under his hands. Flighty, as always, but this is him.

Trust. She trusts him.

They regard each other silently, a dance of focused, intense irises. Suraya smiles, a tiny thing, and that wins a twin reaction from him. She puts a gauntleted hand over his breastplate, over his heart. 

Hawthorne’s dark eyes soften. “Ask me,” She beckons him.

“No.”

“Why?”

“It is not,” Zavala sighs, abandoning that train of thought. “You do not need me weighing on you.”

“How so?” Hawthorne queries, earnestly enough. Zavala looks nonplussed. He sighs again, and she rolls her eyes, watching him look everywhere but her lips. “Ask if you can kiss me. That’s what we’re doing, right? We’re practically hugging.”

When she feels the twinge of him releasing her shoulders, Suraya grabs his hands to stop him. “No no, don’t pull away. I’m not even running and it’s practically my MO.” She laughs nervously and pats the top of his plasteel plated gloves. “Ask.”

The quiet that stretches between them is almost comical. His face is so expressive if one knows how to read it. The tic of his jaw - impatience to make a decision, the bobbing of his throat when he swallows - anxiety. The way his gaze darts between each of her eyes - wanting confirmation to override both of the other two.

Zavala looks down to her lips and back to her eyes. No sigh this time, only a hint of amusement. He knows she knows what he’s feeling. 

“What if I kiss you?”

Suraya grins, already leaning in. “Then I might just kiss you.”


End file.
